


Feeling Fizzy

by colazitron



Series: Femmeslash February 2017 [11]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, M/M, cis girl au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9664385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: Isabell's life feels like it's slowly unravelling, and then this gorgeous girl approaches her in the bathroom.or:Isak and Even as cis girls





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the characters depicted herein or their creators. I made this up in my head and am sharing it purely for entertainment purposes.

Honestly, sometimes Isabell wonders how no one's found her out yet. Don't get her wrong, she's cultivated an image so meticulous it probably _shouldn't_ surprise her, and it's probably easier for girls to get away with this sort of thing than boys, right?, but there's this whole thing where your own secrets are always so fucking obvious to yourself that you can't believe people don't just take one look at you and see it written all over your fucking face.

That's why, when the gorgeous blonde on the other side of the cafeteria looks away from Vilde and Sana and catches her eye, she ducks her head, and goes back to meticulously picking raisins out of her bun. She'd just been so captivated that for a moment the constant stream of  _don't-stare-don't-look-don't-say-that-don't-do-that_ had quieted and Isabell had just taken the girl in. She doesn't remember ever having seen her around, and she's rather sure she would have definitely remembered a face like that, a laugh that tinkles like literal bells, or those legs that seem to go on for days. She might be even taller than Isabell, who, despite being the only girl in her group of close friends, somehow managed to be taller than all of them. (Jonas constantly tries to convince her they're the same height, but hair does not count, Jonas, and Isabell is definitely a good two or three centimetres taller than him.)

“Fucking hell, are you seeing that girl Vilde's talking to?” Magnus says, forcing Isabell to look up and back over at the blonde, who's smiling at something Vilde just said.

“Oh my god,” Mahdi agrees. Even Jonas is nodding slowly. Not that Isabell really blames them, because she's absolutely stunning, but the desire to join into the chorus of awe is making her chest pull tight.

“Definite ten. Like, honestly, an eleven, probably,” Magnus says.

Isabell groans and rolls her eyes. Boys, honestly. Never fail to be disappointing.

“Shit, Isabell, sorry,” Magnus says, shooting her a quick look.

“No, no, go on talking about girls as though they were some sort of product to be rated and consumed,” she says, raising one elegant, judgemental eyebrow at him.

“No, I didn't mean-- just, like, look at her though! Her legs might even be better than yours!” Magnus insists.

“Gross, Mags, stop looking at my legs,” Isabell says.

Magnus winks at her.

“You know you'd bang me,” he says.

Isabell fakes a retching noise.

“Hard pass,” she says, earning herself laughter from both Mahdi and Jonas, the same way she always does. It's a well-practised dance, Magnus' faux flirtation and her rejection of it.

“Why are you being so cruel, Issy,” Magnus whines.

_Because you're a boy and I'm gay,_ Isabell wants to yell, but instead she crosses her legs and shrugs a shoulder.

“Because you're desperate,” she says. “That's not a good look on anyone.”

They're saved from rehashing this same old conversation by Vilde and Sana popping up in front of them.

“Hi!” Vilde says, in that typical perky way of hers, and Isabell grabs her bun again, only half listening to Vilde go on about some sort of kosegroup she's starting and apparently recruiting members for in favour of checking for any more raisins in her bun. She only looks back up when the boys start awkwardly turning Vilde down, and nods along with a shrug. And then Eva joins them, and Isabell has to speak up.

“Um, Eva, did you get my messages?” she asks. The sting and heartache and butterflies she used to feel around Eva have faded with time, replaced with a leaden ball of guilt over what she did to her and Jonas' - Isabell's best friend's - relationship. All for the sake of a silly crush on this wonderful girl who deserved better from Isabell.

“About your sweater? Er, yeah, I'll look for it.”

“Don't you think I should just come over? It'd be easier,” Isabell suggests. She understands why Eva wouldn't want to be alone with her, or even just talk to her, but she really needs to get Mahdi's weed back from Eva's place. She never should've left it there, but when the police had showed up, she'd panicked.

“No, it'll be fine. I'm sure I'll recognise it,” Eva says, and Isabell doesn't really have an answer for that.

Vilde looks diappointed, but gives up on them, and Sana gives them all a tight smile that makes Isabell feel like she's about to regret all of her life choices. Not that Sana doesn't always make her feel like that, and not that she doesn't already regret a good deal of them anyway, but she can't shake the feeling she's about to add another regret to that list.

  


In biology, she finds out she's right, and agrees to make the boys come to Vilde's stupid kosegroup in exchange for Mahdi's weed back.

  


On Friday, it turns out her boys are good-for-nothing  _traitors_ , leaving her to fend for herself with Vilde's homemade buns, and Sana's glare keeping her sat on the auditorium's seats even though she wants nothing more than to just get out of there. 

And then the gorgeous blonde from the cafeteria shows up, and Isabell swears she feels her heart skip a literal beat. She hasn't ever even spoken to this girl, and still the sight of her in those tan chinos and the denim jacket, short hair pushed up and off her face the way boys wear it, takes her breath away a little. She ducks her head when the girl passes her to sit  _right behind her_ , so close that Isabell can see one of her black trainers and the ankle peeking out from under the cuffed trousers, and only looks up when a peppy voice addresses her. 

“Hi, Isabell,” they say, and she hopes against hope that fate isn't cruel enough-- but it is.

Emil, the first year boy she'd made out with at Eva's party on the weekend, is standing before her, almost bouncing on his toes. He has a pretty smile and a pretty face, and if Isabell could only make herself feel even the slightest bit of attraction she wouldn't care at all that he's only a first year. She already regrets ever flirting with this poor boy, especially now that he seems to think there's something going on between them that's more than just one kiss in a bathroom.

“Hi, Emil,” she says, because she's been raised to be a polite girl.

“We were trying to figure out where all the cool people were at this school, and then I saw your name on the sign up sheet, so – of course. Kosegroup,” he says with a wink. Isabell is fairly sure no one could make the word “kosegroup” sound flirtatious, so she has to give him props for trying.

She smiles at him again, but doesn't say anything, and then Vilde's calling for everyone to sit down so they can get started. Isabell is suddenly incredibly grateful for the gorgeous blonde's legs stretched out beside her, because it means Emil has to pass by the otherwise empty space at her side, and sit further down with his two friends.

  


At the first possible opportunity – when Vilde asks them all to get up for the first “love exercise”, fuck that – Isabell steals out of the room and hopes against hope that Sana will give her back the weed for good intentions or out of the kindness of her heart. She has to snort a little at the thought, as they're both pretty unlikely, and wanders the hallways for a bit. Maybe she'll just go back inside towards the end of the meeting, pretend she was there for the whole thing.

Passing the bathroom she walks in and stares at herself in the mirror, the meticulous fishtail braid over her left shoulder, the soft pink top under her grey coat, and the black skinny jeans tucked into ankle boots the mirror doesn't show. Some days she can't remember if this is really what she wants to look like, or if it's all caught up in the act of  _girly-girl-who-crushes-only-on-boys-I-promise._

With a sigh she turns on the cold water and lets it run over her wrists and hands for a few moments, relishing the coolness on her skin before it starts to bite and she has to turn it back off. She flicks the water off her hands and then presses them to her neck, feeling suddenly too hot in her body and blinking away tears she can't quite explain. Except. Except she hates most things about her life and herself these days, so, yeah, that's probably a good reason to cry.

Sighing again she grabs a few tissues and dries her hands, dabs under her eyes just to be safe, and then pulls the small  black tube of lipstick from her purse.  It's called Feeling Fizzy, and honestly, Isabell enjoys the irony of it. She hardly ever feels fizzy these days, but the layer of sweet, Barbie pink on her lips at least reminds her that she should.

Just as she leans over the counter, one hand braced by the sink, lipstick up, the door opens and in walks the gorgeous blonde. She smiles at Isabell and walks to the other sink, washing her hands the same way Isabell had just done.

Isabell tears her eyes away and focuses on her own reflection, swiping the lipstick on quickly. She's had enough practice by now that she doesn't have to be so careful anymore.

“That's a cute colour,” the gorgeous blonde says. “Can I borrow it?”

Isabell wants to say no, because she doesn't let some random stranger's lips all over her makeup usually, but she's too stunned by having heard the blonde goddess speak,  and to her!, so she mutely hands over the lipstick. The girl leans over the counter the same way Isabell had just done and swipes it on expertly, smacking her lips a bit when she's done, tilting her head from side to side, trying to decide if she likes the way it looks.

“What do you think?” she asks, turning back to Isabell. “Cute?”

Mascara darkens her eyelashes, and there's a hint of peach pink blush on the girl's cheeks. The lipstick honestly suits her better than Isabell thinks it'll ever suit herself. But Isabell's heart is beating wildly in her chest, and she's sure if she tried to speak she'd only embarrass herself, so she only nods and takes back the tube of lipstick when it's offered. Snapping the cap back on, she drops it back into her purse, and looks back up just to see the gorgeous blonde take a joint from behind her ear, showing it off to Isabell.

“Come join me outside,” she says, and walks off.

Just like that.

Like they're in some sort of ridiculous movie where Isabell's supposed to trail after the mysterious stranger she just bumped into in the bathroom and – what? Fall in love? Right.

She goes to bite her lip, then remembers her lipstick and clenches her hands instead.

Then she goes outside.

The gorgeous blonde sits up on the backrest of one of the benches in the courtyard, and hands Isabell the joint when she joins her and climbs up onto the bench to sit next to her. Isabell leaves a calculated distance, but it's dark, and this girl asked her to follow her, and Isabell's heart is still racing, so she sits a little closer than she usually would. For a few moments it's just awkward  and quiet.

“Do you know the girl who's leading this whole thing?” the gorgeous blonde asks then.

Isabell can't help her brief chuckle.

“Vilde? Yeah, sorta,” she says. “Her and her love-exercise...”

“What in the world was that?” the gorgeous blonde asks.

Isabell swallows a giggle and shakes her head. “I just had to get out of there. That sort of shit really isn't my style. What was she making you do?”

“She just made us walk around in the dark and, like _feel_ each other, you know? And if someone, like, grabbed you, you had to kiss them,” the gorgeous blonde says, staring at Isabell with wide eyes.

“What? No way,” Isabell protests.

“No,” the gorgeous blonde laughs.

This time Isabell allows herself to laugh back, but then silence falls again, somehow even heavier than before. She hands the joint back when the gorgeous girl – whose name she doesn't even know, god – reaches for it and then tries to swallow the lump in her throat so she can speak. Say something. Anything.

“Which class are you in?” she asks.

“3STB,” the gorgeous blonde says.

“But… you weren't here last year, right?” Isabell asks.

The gorgeous blonde shakes her head. “No, I was at Bakka,” she says.

“Oh. You transferred in your final year?” Isabell asks, but before the gorgeous girl can answer, Emil shows up.

“Hi! There you are,” he says with a small grin as though Isabell has been hiding with the express purpose of having him come find her.

The small amount of tension she felt leave her body just as their conversation seemed to have picked up coils tightly in her stomach again at Emil's smile. Isabell feels weirdly caught out, sitting here smoking weed with a girl who makes her heart race. It's not like Emil can tell, and it's not like he doesn't already know she smokes weed, but Isabell still hands the joint back, shoulders rigid.

“So, Vilde said to split up into pairs and my friends left me hanging, so I was thinking you and I could pair up?” Emil says, setting one foot onto the seat of the bench and leaning forward a little bit, closer to Isabell.

Isabell leans back and, coincidentally, into the gorgeous blonde's side.

“I thought you were going to pair up with me,” the gorgeous blonde says then, jostling Isabell's side with her elbow. Isabell has no idea what she did to deserve this turn of fortune, but she grabs it with both hands.

“Yeah, er, sorry, Emil, I already promised to pair up with--” she says and breaks off when she realises she still doesn't know the gorgeous blonde's name. Instead she fakes a cough and gestures at her, as though she knows what she's talking about.

“Eva,” the gorgeous blonde says, leaning forward to let Emil shake her hand.

Isabell almost wants to laugh. Eva. Of course her name is Eva.

“With Eva,” she says.

“Well, I'm sure Vilde won't mind if we're three,” Emil says.

“Um, well, she seemed pretty adamant about us being in pairs,” Isabell tries to protest. No way in hell is she going to give up the possibility to spend time with… with _Eva_ by herself.

“We'll just ask her,” Emil suggests, and climbs up onto the bench to sit on Isabell's other side. He doesn't even sit that close, but when he leans across Isabell to ask for a hit of the blunt from Eva, Isabell leans back and further into Eva anyway. She doesn't… god, she doesn't want him here, popping the bubble she'd just started to shape with Eva and the dark of night out here where it seemed like maybe, just maybe, Isabell could forget about the constant voice in her head reminding her who she's supposed to be.

The remainder of the time until they all go back inside is awkward as hell, and when they rejoin the others, Sana glares at her. Isabell's pretty sure she's not impressed and Isabell's going to have to jump through another hoop to get that weed back. To top it all off, when Vilde dismisses the group, Eva is somehow already gone, and Isabell didn't even get to say a proper goodbye, or give the girl  _her name_ . Then her phone dings with a message.

  


** Kattehooker og venner **

**Mahdi:**  
Sorry I couldn't make it. Did you get the stuff back?

  


Fuck you too, universe. Fuck you too.

  


** The End **

**Author's Note:**

> Come prompt me things for Femmeslash February on [my tumblr](http://fille-lioncelle.tumblr.com/ask)!


End file.
